Patrick chuckled as George ruffled his hair. He was rather fond of his impressive mop, and though he had picked up many less appealing traits, he wanted to keep the hair.
"You think I'm still me?" Even his mission in life had changed. He used to work with missionaries, helping to get the word of God out there like he had done in Ireland so long ago. Now that his worship had less to do with God and more to do with Ireland itself, he had gotten away from spreading the word. "My motives have changed. I'm not a soldier any more. I sit in my little apartment and drink and hate myself. And dump on my brothers. What if God doesn't hear me any more because I'm not- What if I'm not really a saint any more at all!?"